"The Chief of Staff! Of course. Dear me, how old he's grown. Polly Fortescue of course! Where's that damned waiter?" The carpenter touched the Colonel's sleeve. "Look, sir, those two men in silver." "Bah!" the old soldier snorted with rage. "Queen's Blackguards. Bah! In fancy dress, the bounders! This so-called Chivalrie Renaissance among the idle rich is a piece of damned disgusting snobbery. Ugh!" "The young 'un is the Duke of Lancaster. The tall lean chap is the Chancellor's son, the Marquess of Sydney--rare good at the wicket, sir." The Colonel scowled sideways at the passing Guardsmen. "I hate this foppery--ought to be whipped." "We may need them," the carpenter turned grave, "may need them badly, sir--may need every man we have in the Empire. Have you heard, sir, that Brand is provisioning the country for a siege?" "Pooh! Old invasion scare again--young man, I was brought up to that." "I'm afraid, sir, it's something worse than invasion. There's a rumour that unless the Government drops this Russian Alliance, Brand's going to read them a lesson." "Don't talk to me about Brand, a beastly common tradesman--ought to be locked up. Bah!" "Well, I'm a working man," said the carpenter, "and we're not much in love with this Capitalist Government. Hello, here's the Marquess of Sydney back again with--look," he pointed with his pipe stem. "That's John Brand!" "Brand, you say?" The Colonel half choked with excitement, "point him out quick. Is that really Brand himself? Why, damme!" Brand and Lord Sydney were talking in low tones, earnestly, as they passed through the lanes of trees. "My dear Brand, it's too horrible," said the Guardsman, "you never could hold the reins through such a crisis. There must be some other way." "There is only one other way. Get back the Russian papers. I must have those papers, I must publish them word for word, then leave the people to judge." "I have tried. Can't you believe that I've tried to get them, Brand?" "I couldn't blame you, Sydney, if you refused your help. I know what it means to you." "To rob my father, to betray him to his enemies, to hand him over to justice, then to be Duke of Ulster afterwards in his place, and bribe thieves and prostitutes to shake hands with me--the leper. I know what it means, and I have not turned back." "Give it up, Sydney, leave it to me, and let me get the papers." "First spy, then coward, I must sneak, and then run away?"